In the Eat, Pray, Love formula, eating and loving are no-brainers; it’s the pray part that brings us to our knees.

By Abigail Lewis

At the ungodly hour of 5:15 am, I step out of my 1930s cabin into the inky blackness. Most days I’d still be snuggled in bed, but this very early morning I’m trudging up a dirt road at the Shoshoni retreat center near Boulder, Colo. The only sounds other than my footsteps are wind moaning in the tall pines and the distant lament of a train whistle. What little light interrupts the darkness beckons from two small windows in the wall of the temple ahead.

Although it seems the center is asleep, like much of our material world, that’s an illusion. Everyone in this small yoga community is awake, either for chanting, yajna fire ceremony, personal yoga practice or breakfast prep.

And it’s a godly hour after all. When I join the community at the ornately adorned altar, we chant 182 verses of the Sanskrit Guru Gita and two pages of prayers for the health of Sri Shambhavananda, founder of Shoshoni, followed by a half hour of silent prayer and meditation.

This is why I’m here. Having just read Elizabeth Gilbert’s bestselling Eat, Pray, Love, I’m intrigued not only by her ashram experience, but also by reader assertions of the book’s “cathartic” and “life-changing” effect. With airfare to India pricey and politics in the Middle East iffy, I’ve scoured the Internet in search of a domestic experience that might offer the kind of spiritual fulfillment Gilbert found in India.

Getting to Enlightenment

Coming from the west off Interstate 70, the road to enlightenment is bordered by the gambling casinos of Blackhawk and Central City. Further along, mile markers help us locate the entrance to Shoshoni’s rutted main road, eventually leading to a small settlement of simple wooden buildings tucked away on 230 acres in the forest.

To trace Shoshoni’s history, you’d have to go back to 1960s Indiana, where an amiable seeker of Italian-American descent got “involved with the hippie lifestyle” and became a student of Swami Rudrananda, aka Rudi. Although Rudi had studied under Swami Nityananda, the heart of his teaching was not Siddha yoga, but rather emphasized the practicalities of life. As related in Spontaneous Recognition, Discussions with Swami Shambhavananda, a “distinct Brooklyn Jewish voice” helped the seeker to recognize his guru (seriously!).

When Rudi died, a small group of his students migrated to Boulder and started first Rudi’s Bakery (since sold but still flourishing), and later Rudi’s Restaurant to support themselves. At this point, the yoga lineage gets a bit confusing. Rudi’s protégé met another Nityananda student — Baba Muktananda — who initiated him into the Saraswati order as Swami Shambhavananda, assuring him he needn’t join Siddha because his relationship would be with Baba. Rather, the new swami would be part of the Shambhava Mudra, in which it is “not necessary to renounce the physical world.” This was good, because swamis traditionally are celibate and Shambhavananda had a wife.
More recently, Shambhavananda has chosen to renounce his swami-dom and is now officially titled Mahamanaleshwar. Although I missed his weekly visit to Shoshoni, his influence infuses ashram life. One evening a week, most residents join him for darshan at his nearby Eldorado Mountain ashram.

Despite any apparent irregularity, Shoshoni residents are delightful, gracious and extremely hardworking. Although a few seem spiritually starstruck, more prevalent is the sentiment expressed by Satyam Ehinger, 25, who arrived fresh out of college three years ago and voices “deep respect” for his guru. “He’s a role model, my spiritual teacher,” he explains.